The cricket crawling around in the florescent light above my
son’s head attempted to distract me, but I was too focused on the picture of a
man that stood before me. He stood tall at the head of a long table in a well-used
brown suit. A picture of Christ hung on the wall behind him. Without hesitation
or any show of timidity, he reported on his two years of missionary service and explained to fifteen men that represented the local leadership of our church how and why he had served. I
wondered what had become of the young boy in a cowboy hat and boots. When did
he become a man?

In the South Pacific on the island of Vanuatu, young men still
perform a ritual to prove their manhood called land diving. They construct a
tower from wooden branches high above the jungle floor and then with carefully
measured vines attached to their ankles, they jump. The vines stop their fall to
certain death inches above the ground. A young man will start by jumping from
the lower portion of the tower, and each year he will climb higher to make the
jump. The more courageous ones will eventually make it all the way to the top
to prove their manhood. Land diving has been a rite of passage in this island
culture for several hundred years.

In our modern society, we have done away with, or replaced,
most rites of passage for our young men to prove their manhood. When does a boy
become a man any more? When he buys his first car? When he pays off his student
loans? When he spends more time working than playing video games? When he
drinks his first drink of alcohol or smokes his first cigar? When he joins the
military? When he fathers a child? When does a boy become a man?

Two years ago my son Cody left home to serve a mission for
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He had lived on his own for
over a year already. He had a year of college under his belt, and had been
gainfully employed. By many standards, he was a man already. Like the young men
on the island of Vanuatu who start by jumping from the lower portions of the
wooden tower, he had proven himself capable of accepting and fulfilling basic responsibilities.
When he accepted the call to serve as a missionary for two years (without pay),
he was embarking on a daring rite of passage.

All worthy young men in the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-Day Saints are encouraged to serve a mission, but not everyone chooses
to do so. I am not suggesting that a full-time mission is necessary for an LDS
boy to become a man. Even the current President of the Church, Thomas S.
Monson, did not serve a mission. I am
suggesting that the process of serving voluntarily as a missionary and humbly
submitting to all the strict rules of conduct it entails will bring a
noticeable change to any young man’s countenance. If they serve willingly and
obediently, they will shed the boyish norms and adopt the more mature conduct
fitting of a man of Christ.

If someone has to tell you that they have become a man, then
they most certainly have not. The moment I saw Cody walking past the airport
security checkpoint as he returned home, I could see the difference. We greeted
him with signs and cheers. He displayed the same sense of humor and charm, but he
stood taller. He carried himself with more confidence. He paid attention to the
needs of others. He was no longer a boy struggling to fill a man’s role. No doubt
a great deal of growth still awaited him, but I could see that he had become a man.
He didn’t have to tell me.

Which experiences made him a man? Was it keeping a rigid
daily schedule without much supervision? Was it speaking with strangers about
the passionate topic of religion? Was it doing his own laundry? Could it have
been learning to live on a limited budget? Did spending 24/7 with another human
being help him polish the rough edges of youth? Which experiences propelled the
boy to manhood?

Each of those opportunities to grow was like moving steadily
up the land diving tower. Each experience, each trial, each adversity, built
his courage; sharpened his abilities; increased his maturity. No single event
converted him from boy to man, but the culmination of those experiences helped
him shed his selfish boyhood skin and replace it with the callus-covered hide
of manhood. Manhood is rarely achieved through one dramatic act, but a
culmination of small seemingly mundane acts that build strength of character
and beg the boy to become a man.

I’m not sure how many years it takes for a young man in
Vanuatu to work his way to the top of the land diving tower and make the leap
to manhood, but I am certain that somewhere during the past two years of
serving others, my son Cody made the leap from boy to man.

My oldest son, Rian, already made that leap during
a similar experience as a missionary. My youngest son, Carson, is looking forward
to his own experience.

Contributors

I was driven to writing by my own arrogance. In January of 2009, I finished a book by a popular author and was very unimpressed. I turned the book over and saw that it was a NY Times best seller. “I could do better than that,” I mumbled under my breath. So I began to dabble in writing and pondered various book ideas. Although I didn’t share my writing with anyone for several months, I found that I thoroughly enjoyed my writing time and found myself eager to get back to my computer. Writing gave me new purpose, and filled an emotional void in my life. It allowed me to be creative. I began sharing my work and was encouraged. I attended Orson Scott Card’s Literary Boot Camp, and came away with greater desire and respect for the writing craft. Today, I am still arrogant enough to think that I can succeed, but not so naïve that I think success will come without great struggles and many failures.